gunpowder
by ProbablySatan
Summary: Life isn't about what we deserve. We don't get to choose or decide that. Life is about what we want. Wolfkala oneshot


gunpowder

She wakes to thick wool, the smell of smoke, and the sound of rain. It takes a moment for her to register that this is not her bed-but its so familiar, so warm, that she soon forgets that fact and grabs the woolen blankets around her to pull them to her chin, wanting to sleep again.

But then there is the smell. Gunpowder and smoke. Her room does not smell like this and her blankets are not grey wool. Kala sits up drowsily, trying to connect the pieces.

She stares around the room. It's all grey and metallic looking. There's nothing warm about the place and she fears she'll get depressed just for being in there for so long. As she takes in her surroundings, she spots him.

Wolfgang sits on the other side of the bed, his hands folded neatly in his lap. He is staring ahead blankly, looking at the wall.

"Did I wake you?" He says lowly.

Kala lets a slow smile curve her lips. She crosses her legs on his bed but doesn't face him. "That is not how this works." Her fingers play with the frayed ends of the blanket. "We must've woken up around the same time and have ended up here."

"It's late for you," Wolfgang says, taking in the light from her windows. He can practically feel the heat, even though he's inside. The sun hangs high in the sky, telling him that it is late afternoon in Mumbai. Creamy silken sheets lay under his fingertips, warm from Kala's sleeping form.

Everything is warm here, he decides. Everything is warm and smells of jasmine and _her._ "It's unlike you. You're a morning person, aren't you?"

He's not sure how he knows that-if he had learned it on his own or if she'd shared it with him. Or maybe...one of the others had known it and passed along the knowledge. Either way, he knows that Kala usually wouldn't be sleeping at this hour.

"I was feeling a bit down, so I decided to stay in today," Kala does not know what compels her to do so (maybe she hadn't compelled herself at all) but she lays back against the cold bed, and pulls wool up to her nose. The blanket smells like smoke and cheap cologne, her hands fist the material close to her face.

Wolfgang frowns. Her emotions feel heavy; there is a weight on her shoulders. He wants to turn around, but knows that he shouldn't. Instead, he focuses on the pile of clothing she has sitting in the corner of her room. He stares at the reds and blues of her dresses and tries not to imagine her in them. His attempt is futile, so he picks another spot. A framed picture on her desk of her father teaching her how to cook when she was younger. Her smile is wide and she has two teeth missing. Something strange and warm fills his stomach. This is so _unusual._

"How come?" He tries to sound unconcerned but Kala knows every feeling that runs through him, maybe even before he does. He feels her stretch in his bed, pulling his blanket over her head, disappearing from sight.

Wolfgang tugs the silk sheet harshly, making her gasp lightly. He tugs the wool from over her face and looks at her for the first time. For a moment he is engulfed in warmth. Every sense is clouded with brown. Brown skin, brown eyes, brown hair. It might just become his new favorite color. His stomach feels like a mess of warm fingers tickling his sides. He feels delight that is the color yellow.

This is _weird._

Wolfgang turns back around. "Why have you been down?"

There is a long pause. Wolfgang feels her anxiety, can practically feel her pursed lip and scrunched up brows.

Kala turns to face his back, watching the light from the window play on his shoulder blades and down his arms. She smells smoke again. And gunpowder. And sees the red red patches of skin where fists had connected with flesh. She never thought she would fall for someone like him.

She had never thought that her tongue would roll perfect German between her teeth. Or that'd she'd wake up in someone else's bed that was still her own at the same time. Or that'd she'd have this dark (yet) white man in her room (but not) at both early and late hours of the day.

"Not going to tell me?" Wolfgang questions in perfect Hindi. He rolls his neck and slowly relaxes. Kala is still watching his back as he slowly climbs back into her bed. He lies back on a satin pillow, not looking at her.

So they lay side-by-side, not looking at each other but seeing themselves all the same, not touching, but feeling in ways that can't be explained.

Kala turns her head to face the grey of his walls, "I broke off the engagement last night."

There is a long pause. Wolfgang does not know what to think or how to feel or what to do. Without knowledge of what more to do or say, he feels his lips pull into a smirk, his shoulders shaking with laughter, he says, "Congratulations."

( _This is happiness._ It echoes in his mind. There is laughter coming from somewhere too. Very smug. Probably Lito.)

But he remembers the heaviness on her chest and the feeling becomes his too. He turns his head, only to see hers facing away from him. His eyes trail down her neck to the curve of her shoulder, and then back up as she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "But you are still upset about something?" He closes his eyes, "Do you regret it?"

Kala feels his breath on her neck and she shakes her head quickly. Her stomach is coiled tight, full of her anxieties. This is intimacy like she's never experienced-and they're not even touching."I just...I just feel bad." She sighs deeply, "My parents love him and he...I think he liked me a lot."

Wolfgang's eyebrows raise, "So?" He turns to face the ceiling, the smirk back on his lips. "It's not about what he wants. It's about what you want."

Kala picks a spot on his wall to concentrate on, "What about you?"

His voices comes out confused, "What about me?"

"What do you want, Wolfgang?" Kala finally turns to face him. They are so close. Neither of them can tell if it's wool or satin they're laying on or if it's rainy or sunny outside. Just that they are together.

"I want a lot of things that I shouldn't want," His smirk is gone. He rolls to his side to face Kala. He can feel her breath on the tip of his nose.

Kala understands the implications. She reaches out and traces a finger across his jawline. "You are not a monster, Wolfgang."

He shakes his head, reminded of the blood on his hands, the grey of his walls, and the smell of gunpowder. "You deserve someone better."

Instead of arguing with him, Kala smiles gently, her hands moving his hair from his eyes. She only says, "Life isn't about what we deserve. We don't get to choose or decide that." Kala moves closer, but this time, her eyes aren't on his eyes, they're on his lips. "Life is about what we want."

Her words are made of gunpowder. Wolfgang finds his hands moving around her waist. He smirks again, the sun shines from her windows and he feels warm. "Humans are very selfish that way."

Kala nods and before she can let a shy smile cross her lips, Wolfgang is already kissing her.


End file.
